


two chai teas

by twoheadlights (fizzfic)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (of some sort), Beach Holidays, Fluff and Humor, M/M, two white boys trying to figure out saris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfic/pseuds/twoheadlights
Summary: Dan and Phil go to Chennai, India.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS AN OLD FIC i wrote it in 2015 and it died with my old blog. a few people asked me where it was so i decided to post it here!
> 
> ALSO [this](https://twitter.com/chaandki/status/795312171626414080) exists and i died.

India is hot. Not just hot; it’s  _ hot _ . 

Dan can’t help but feel overdressed even though he’s literally in shorts and a t-shirt of the thinnest material he could find in his wardrobe. It’s not even black so he’s a little more than confused by the sweat patches all over the garment.

Next to him, Phil isn’t doing much better. His entire face is already a bright pink and there’s specks of white on his cheeks where he’d smeared moisturiser on them. He looks at Dan and grins. “I love Chennai!” He exclaims.

Dan rolls his eyes as he hauls his backpack onto his back. “You haven’t even seen any of it, you spoon.”

“The airport was so nice, though.  _ Very _ feng shui.” He nods back at the arrivals behind them impressively. Dan ignores him (like he did, the entire time they were awake on the flight).

He has to admit that it is pretty cool that they’re in India. Dan’s been twice already, even though it wasn’t to Chennai or in this climate (it was always pleasantly cold). When Phil insisted that this be the place they go for their holiday, Dan didn’t understand. Phil then proceeded to explain that he wanted to see the elephants.

Right.

(Dan later warned him to not say shit like that when they reached India or else they’d get deported for being ignorant white men.)

So now they’ve stuffed their two small suitcases in the back of a white taxi, sitting on the two sides of the car, making sure they’re not physically touching to be inconspicuous. The driver can speak English, thank  _ God _ . Dan’s a little terrified because the car is going so fast he can feel his face almost peel off and the driver doesn’t even have his seatbelt on.

“Surely he’ll have to pay a fine for that.” He mutters under his breath, mostly to himself but he glances at Phil who nods like he agrees. What a strange place.

Chennai is pretty nice; Dan gathers that much from inside the cab. They’re not staying in the city though, Phil having booked a room in a resort near the coast. He can’t pronounce the place’s name; it starts with M and has lots of temples he’s looking forward to seeing. What he’s not looking forward to is the beach, if he’s being totally honest (flashback to What Not to do at the Beach). But that’s okay, because there’s a pool. Good, good.

The driver has now put the radio on, and the song playing is in Tamil, so he doesn’t understand what’s being sung, but it’s soft and the girl’s voice is sickeningly sweet, so much so that as they drive over the famed East Coast Road as the sun set on the horizon, Dan’s shoulders slacken, his forehead creases disappear and his eyes flutter shut.

-

The chalet they booked comes with a double bed and a seaview. It’s pretty and they allow the man who came with them to drop their luggage to see that one of them will be sleeping in the guestroom before lugging the other suitcase into the master bedroom and collapsing onto the bed together.

Phil looks at Dan and asks, “Swim tomorrow?”

God, yes please.

-

Dan wishes people in India were taller. Then he and Phil wouldn’t have to stick their heads out of the auto rickshaw they’re in like fucking dogs.

Speaking of dogs, there are a lot of them in India. Phil thinks it’s a sign. Dan thinks they probably have rabies.

Anyway, this auto is going multi-kajillion miles per hour and Dan and Phil are apparently too big for it, so they have to risk their heads, literally. Dan looks at Phil now, and his stomach does a somersault. It’s not because of the speed, oh no. This kind of somersault only happens when Phil...happens. When Phil doesn’t know that he’s happening and his pupils are blown from gazing at things with amazement and he’s grinning madly, his muscles are tense, and his adrenaline is clearly going up and up. The only other time he looks like that is when they’re both under sheets at night, and tracing patterns and shapes on each other, constantly reminding themselves what the other feels like -

So yeah. Phil looks like that now and Dan wishes he could just reach out to him and touch. Just get a feel of him, feel his pulse under his fingers.

The ride thankfully isn’t longer than five minutes. Dan hands the driver a hundred rupees note, the latter raises an eyebrow at him, confusing him, but says nothing and drives off. Dan wonders for a moment what he did wrong but is then distracted by a store.

“Phil, Phil!” He tugs on Phil’s arm and pulls him to the entrance. Phil looks up at the sign and laughs, covering his mouth to muffle the sound in case someone around gets offended. Dan knows that behind the shades, he has crinkly eye bits.  

The store is called  _ Welcome to Bizarre Bazar _ . On display are gold jewelry, long rolls of colourful cloths, tote bags, cushions whose patterns resemble the rug Dan bought the last time he was in India.

“Let’s go in!” Phil exclaims, pulling Dan in. They’re greeted by a small room, not many people other than two women and a man behind a counter. Behind  _ him _ are shelves and shelves of cloth of different colours and patterns.

The man looks up, a bit surprised at the sight of two fully grown white males in tank tops and khaki shorts in this quaint shop where nothing looks like they’d be interested in buying.

“Hi!” Phil says cheerfully. “May I ask, what are those?”

It’s obvious that the man doesn’t speak English. He replies, “Ithu ella saris,”  **[a/n: my Mum says it’s pronounced 'idunella saris' where the 'd' sounds like the 'th' in 'the' ygm]** smiling nervously.

Dan and Phil look at each other.  _ What _ ? Thankfully they’re saved the embarrassment of asking again when one of the women in the shop with them walks up and says, “He said those are all saris.” She smiles at them both and continues, “Do you know what those are?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Dan says, realizing that obviously, those are saris and feels stupid. “Yeah, yeah, we know what those are.”

“Hey Dan,” Phil murmurs in his ear, causing him to look like he’s being possessed by a demon for a moment. “That red one looks really nice. Why don’t we shop?”

They leave the shop with about six saris. (“They’re for...our mums. Mothers.  _ Amma _ , yes, her.”)

-

Lunch is a no-brainer, as they both love South Indian food. They find a restaurant, Moonrakers, a building with two floors of tables. They’re greeted by a guy just about reaching Dan’s chest. “Welcome.” He says, the ‘c’ coming out as ‘g’, so he actually says, ‘welgome’. At the desk, the manager smiles at them and gets the the man from the entrance to take them to a table for two.

The restaurant also has a view of the beach, which they’d planned to go the next day. They spend two minutes deciding what to eat before a waiter walks up to them.

“Yeah, we’ll have the prawns?” Phil looks at Dan for confirmation. The latter nods and looks down at his menu again. In the beverages, there’s an item that catches his eye.  _ Chai _ . Chai tea, here? His eyes light up and he looks up and says, “Also, can we have two chai teas? I think that’s it.”

The waiter frowns at him for a second, then proceeds to write down his order and leaves.

“Chai tea?” Phil asks, eyebrow raised.

“I  _ know _ .” Dan replies.

-

“Okay, how was I supposed to know that  _ chai  _ means tea?!"

They're back in their dimly lit bedroom, sprawled on the sheets starfish style, legs tangled and everything. It's been a long day, but they're slightly buzzed from the really fast auto ride (again) and the two chai teas  _ each  _ that they'd been served. The waiter must've had quite the field day at work with that one. Dan groans and turns away from Phil.

“I’m gonna go take a leak,” Phil announces unnecessarily and gets off the bed. Dan watches him slightly limp (the walking hasn’t been kind to either of them) to the bathroom and shuts his eyes only to have them fly open at the sound of Phil yelping.

“FUCKING PIPE.”

Dan leaps up and runs to the bathroom - and doubles over howling with laughter. Phil’s standing up now, his shorts down to his knees (he’d pulled up his boxers, also quite wet in the vital areas), t-shirt covering him and dripping wet. He's still holding the pipe in his right hand. Glaring at Dan, he says, "Can you  _ please _ hand me a towel and clothes?" 

Dan muffles his still coming giggles with a hand and nods. Going back into the room, he opens up Phil’s suitcase and rifles through it. Picking up clean boxers and his own black t-shirt, he walks back to the bathroom.

“Thanks,” he says, reaching for the towel but Dan pulls back. He smirks and takes out his phone.

“Nu-uh. Not before I treasure this moment forever.” Quick as a flash, he takes it and looks at the screen, where Phil’s face is frozen forever in a shocked expression, his wet checkered boxers visibly wet.

“Dan!”

He throws the towel at his boyfriend and walks out, calling, “don’t be too long now! I want to get an early night.”

“danisnotonfire: phil’s had an accident (india is being great so far) instagram.com/p/ 7QNz4gLBG

-

They decide saris are just inconvenient and wonder how anyone would choose to wear them. From the pictures on Google Images, they figure out that they definitely have to wrap the abnormally long cloth around their waists and throw it over their shoulders. Which is all well and good, but how do they  _ walk _ ?

“AHHH!” Phil yells, tripping over the train of the sari that fell to the ground. He bounces onto the bed and groans. “Who invented these?”

Dan twirls around in his sari and flicks his fringe out of his face. “I dunno, I like them. You look nice too, yellow really brings out your eyes.” He grins cheekily at Phil rolling his eyes.

He picks him up by the hand and pulls him closer to him. “You’re beautiful.” Dan whispers.

And it’s this he loves doing. He loves knowing how to change the atmosphere by just touching Phil. By holding him and caressing him. After six years, they’ve learnt each other by heart and somehow still learn new things. Like how Phil has a sensitive bit just behind his ear. Dan turns him around and buries his face into his neck, breathing in his scent, even more earthy and rain-like in this country. He kisses the skin behind Phil’s ear, smirking at the moan emiting from him.

He drops the sari from his shoulder and twirls him out of it before bringing him up to his chest again. Phil grabs his face and pulls him in for a kiss. They’re urgent, touching, feeling frantically, having not been this physical since before they got here. Phil’s hair is soft as ever, smelling a little salty from the sea breeze that whooshed over them.

They don’t get too far though.

“Ew!” Dan pulls away in disgust.

“Thanks?” Phil replies, wiping his lips.

“No, no, it’s not that. Just - you have something in your teeth.”

“What?” Phil feels around his teeth with his tongue and cringes. “Oh, yeah, that’s the corn we had at that stall today.”

Dan sticks out his tongue. “Yeah, it’s like claggy at the back of my throat too.”

“Well, it was nice to get a boner and not do anything about it. It’s like being thirteen all over again.”

-

The beach is empty that morning and not a soul is in sight. If it wasn’t for Phil pushing him off the bed, Dan would’ve gladly missed the sunrise. But now he’s stood away from the water, watching the back of Phil walking right into the lapping sea water, his arms spread wide. He stops right at the edge, where his toes are definitely being tickled by the small waves and his shoulders rise, as if he’s taking a deep breath in. In front of his silhouette, the sun rises slowly, the rays outlining Phil’s figure.

Dan loves Phil.

As much as he’s thought it, told Phil himself, he can’t seem to acknowledge it enough. It’s scary how he doesn’t know just  _ how _ much he loves Phil. He thinks if he were to do that, he would get too overwhelmed. They’ve been through so much together, so many emotions, so many holidays, two flats (three if you count the one Dan spent about 3/4th of his time in anyway), a radio show, a joint gaming channel, and God knows what else the future holds.

They don’t have a name for what they are even after all these years. Before, they didn’t because that would mean it was all real, this, them, everything. Now, they don’t because they know it’s real and they don’t  _ need  _ to call it anything.

He walks to Phil, stands next to him. The latter doesn’t react in any way. Dan immediately intertwines their fingers and squeezes. A silent message.

“Can you believe we’re actually in India?” Phil asks.

“Yes. When you want to do something, we usually almost always do it.” Dan replies grinning, remembering some of those significant decisions. Japan, moving to London, asking the BBC to let them have a show, asking Dan to move in with him…

Phil’s lips curl into a smile mirroring his own as if he also remembered the same things. “Yeah. I just,  _ I _ can’t believe it. We’re really going places aren’t we?”

They stare as the sun rises, illuminating the scene around them. A new dawn, new adventures for the two of them. New opportunities.

“Yes. Yes, we are.”

-

(Phil wants to the Baywatch run and Dan tries to capture the moment, but ends up getting Phil doubled over, hand on his side, and breathing really hard. Oh, well.)

**Author's Note:**

> the formatting's probably all wrong i'll fix it soon i promise maybe idk


End file.
